


Interdependent

by MiladyDragon



Category: Stargate SG-1, Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Character Death Fix, Children of Earth Fix-It, Forced Blending, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Symbiotic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Ianto Jones remembers is dying in Thames House.  But he wakes up in a UNIT holding facility with a voice in his head and an alien inhabiting his body.  Now, he has to escape and find a way off planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started writing this a couple of years ago and never finished it. Today I had the urge to get it completed; in fact, it only had one more chapter to go and I'm ashamed it took me this long. 
> 
> Anyway, this was written in response to a prompt for the Long Live Ianto Non-Anniversary Challenge, using the prompt by madbottoms: "A crossover with Stargate, where Ianto didn't die as quick on Day Four, and it was a bit slower, and for some reason he's beamed away by SG1 or the Atlantis team, where they have a Tok'ra symbiote in need of a host. This will give Ianto an extended life of a thousand years at least."

 

Consciousness came back slowly, and the first thing Ianto was aware of was that he was alive…something that he hadn’t even considered he’d be after the alien virus had been released in Thames House.

The second thing he noticed was the humming.

His eyes felt as if the lids were glued closed.  Ianto managed to pry them open, then promptly shut them again as the overhead light slammed into his retinas.  He moaned, wanting to ask whoever was humming to turn off the light, but only a pained croak came out.

The humming stopped.  _“I’m sorry,”_ a soft, female voice with a strange sort of undertone said, _“but I’m not able to turn it off.  I wish I could, because your head feels as if it were imploding.”_

What?  The voice sounded like it was in his mind…                                    

_“I_ am _in your mind,”_ the voice answered.  _“Once again I have to apologize; it wasn’t exactly by choice.”_

Ianto wondered if the alien virus had somehow driven him insane.

_“No, you’re not insane.  I don’t mean to be here, but if I hadn’t you would have died.  Oh, I’m Ges’ryth of Palidor.  And you’re Ianto Jones.  I would say it’s a pleasure, but I suspect we both wish it were under better circumstances.”_

An alien, then.  Of course.

_“To you, yes.  I am an alien.  Apparently you’ve had plenty of experience with otherworldly races.  This is certainly a plus in your accepting my presence.”_

Ianto opened his eyes once more, this time the light not hurting as badly.  He was laying on something hard, and levering himself up on his hands he could see that it was a concrete floor that was his current bed. 

He recognized it immediately.

It was a UNIT holding cell.  And he was wearing the standard orange jumpsuit, his feet bare on the cold concrete.

He was alone.

_“I am a symbiote,”_ Ges’ryth answered, sounding almost apologetic about it.  _“I am inside you, which is why you can hear my thoughts.”_

Ianto shivered, fear and anger flooding through him in equal measure.  He wanted it out –

_“I cannot leave, not without dying.  Well, there’s a ceremony among the Tok’ra that would remove me without killing me – “_

Tok’ra?  Ianto knew that race, from the Archives…Goa’uld?

_“Please,”_ Ges’ryth said disdainfully.  _“I’m not a power-mad maniac, thank you very much.  While the Goa’uld and the Tok’ra might have once shared a common ancestor, I can assure you I’m not going to go insane and try to take over the world.”_

“Or take over me?” he managed to croak.

_“It might be best if you talked to me in your head.  I’m not sure you want our captors to know we can communicate so easily.”_

The voice – Ges’ryth – had a valid point.  Chances were, they were under surveillance at that very minute.

_“Thank you.  And no, I’m not going to take you over.  As I said, I’m not exactly here by choice, but I couldn’t let you just die like that.”_

He wondered how she’d gotten there.  Hell, he wondered how _he’d_ gotten there from Thames House.

_“We were on my way to a meeting on the Jaffa Free Homeworld when a strange golden light engulfed our tel’tak and we crashed here.”_

We?

_“Myself and my former host, Teslin.”_ Ges’ryth’s tone saddened.  _“She was critically injured when our ship was destroyed. I could not heal her, she was wounded too badly.   She had been with me for a hundred years, and I shall miss her.”_

Ianto could feel her mourning, but didn’t say anything, just letting her feel his own sympathy.

_“Thank you, but I see you’re not a stranger to loss as well.”_

Ianto snorted into his knees.  He really wanted to meet the person who hadn’t lost something in their lives. 

The golden light though… taken by the Rift, then.

_“That is what these soldiers have said. It threw us halfway across the galaxy, since this is apparently the Tauri homeworld.  I have had very few dealings with the Tauri, but I am familiar with Stargate Command.  These though…they are not affiliated with the SGC, or they wouldn’t have held me prisoner, then practically forced me to blend with you.”_

He explained UNIT to her, and judging from her snort she wasn’t impressed. 

He wondered again how he’d gotten there.  The memory of Jack’s tearstained face came back to him, and he felt his heart constrict.  Jack must have thought he was dead, or else Ianto wouldn’t have ended up a prisoner of UNIT.

_“I am sorry.”_ Ges’ryth’s thoughts caressed his own, in what felt like a mental hug.  _“And no, I don’t know how you got here.  All I know is, I was taken from the tank they were holding me in, and told that if I didn’t blend with you, you would die.  I think they believed I was one of the Goa’uld, which of course meant they purposely arranged a blending between an aggressor species and one of their own.  Even though you were dying, there was no excuse for that.”_

There was something Ges’ryth wasn’t saying, and Ianto called her on it.

_“Um,”_ she sounded embarrassed, _“well, I thought if they believed I was a Goa’uld, that it might give us a chance to escape.  If we can get to Stargate Command, they can arrange for transport to my home and then I can be removed safely.  I promise you, Ianto Jones, I only wish for us to escape.  I would never force you into accepting my presence permanently.”_

He had to admit, it was a good plan. 

_“Thank you.”_ Now she sounded smug. 

Ianto would have rolled his eyes if his head didn’t hurt so bad.

_“Do you think you’d feel comfortable enough to give me just enough control to convince them that we’re insane world conquerors?”_

He really didn’t have much choice, did he?

_“Of course you do,”_ Ges’ryth answered.  _“I would never do anything that you don’t want.  The Tok’ra believe in full sharing; it’s the Goa’uld who completely take away their hosts’ free will.”_

Ianto’s resolve hardened.  He had no idea how he’d survived Thames House, but he knew damned well he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in a UNIT holding cell.  And, if this act could help them escape, then he was all for it.

And then, he could find Jack.  Jack had contacts within the SGC; he’d taken calls from a General Landry for Jack on a couple of occasions, and there was also a General O’Neill that Jack had apparently known as well. 

Letting Jack know that he was alive was also a bonus.

_“Your plan is also sensible,”_ Ges’ryth said.  _“I have heard of General O’Neill and he is much respected among my people.  And you must get back to your loved one.”_

Ianto did roll his eyes then.  That just sounded so cheesy…

_“Cheesy…is this a good thing, or bad?”_

He showed her exactly what ‘cheesy’ meant, causing the symbiote to laugh.  

_“I do believe you and I will get along well, Ianto Jones.”_

He certainly hoped so, since it looked as if they were going to be sharing his head for a bit.

_“Thank you for allowing me to share.  You could have disagreed with it.”_

There really was no point, when they could just as easily work together.  After all, they both wanted to escape.

_“Very true.  Now, perhaps I should get my inner…what is the word?  Diva?”_ At Ianto’s agreement, she went on.   _‘Then it’s time I get my inner diva on.  I quite like that word!  I think we can learn a great deal from each other.”_

There was a sudden, very strange disconnect in Ianto’s head.  His body began to move on its own, and he stood as if his brain wasn’t, in fact, sloshing around in his skull.  Despite it feeling so very wrong, somehow he knew that, if he wanted to take back control, he could.  So, he let Ges’ryth do what she wanted, and decided to take a back seat and watch.

“I demand to speak to whoever is in charge!” The voice that came from his throat was his own, but there was that strange tone under it that he’d heard in Ges’ryth’s mental voice.  “How dare you keep me in here!  Do you not know who I am?”

Ianto laughed internally at just how pompous that sounded.

Ges’ryth joined in the silent laughter.  _“I’ve never had the chance to portray a Goa’uld dignitary before.  Even if it doesn’t get us very far, I must say I think it’s going to be fun!”_

They stood there for a few minutes, Ges’ryth yelling at random moments, demanding to be let out of the cell.  Ianto figured there would have to be someone monitoring them, and adding in the time it would take to get a commanding officer in to give orders for them to be collected, someone should be coming in just about…

“STAND AWAY FROM THE DOOR,” a robotic-sounding voice ordered.

Ges’ryth had them take two steps back, putting their hands on their hips – it was interesting that Ianto was already beginning to think of his body as belonging to them both – and they waited, the symbiote making their foot tap in a show of impatience.  The door opened, and two UNIT guards were waiting on the other side, weapons drawn.   

They were looking a bit nervous, and Ianto couldn’t help but chuckle.  Apparently they really didn’t trust Ges’ryth.

_“The reputation of the Goa’uld precede us,”_ she said. 

They stared down the soldiers.  “Take me to your leader,” they said imperiously, looking down their nose at the pair.

Well, that was about the biggest cliché in science fiction…

Ges’ryth was puzzled.  _“I don’t know what you mean.”_

Ianto showed her as they were led down the corridor of what looked like a bunker.  Cell doors flanked them on both sides, and Ianto wondered just how many people were being held within.  He remembered Toshiko saying that Jack had saved her from just such a cell, and he found himself wishing his lover would suddenly appear in a flash of greatcoat and bustle them away.

_“That is a nice wish,_ ” Ges’ryth said, _“but the reality is we shall need to get ourselves out of this ourselves.”_

Ianto couldn’t disagree.

They were marched down the corridor, through a set of doors that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a missile silo, and into what looked like a bunker.  Harsh overhead lighting irritated Ianto’s eyes, and it was only Ges’ryth’s control over their now-mutual body that kept him from rubbing them.   The pain though was subsiding, and he was grateful.

_“A symbiote can heal their host fairly quickly,”_ the Tok’ra explained.  _“It was the reason they wanted me to blend with you – was to heal you from whatever it was that had caused your near death.  I should be able to heal pretty much everything, as long as it’s not catastrophic and I have a bit of time.”_

That was good to know, but then Ianto had no intention of getting hurt if he could avoid it.

Ges’ryth chuckled.  _“I’m glad to hear it.  Now, let’s face whoever is holding us here against our will, shall we?”_

There was a door just off the corridor, and the guards forced them through it.  Ianto and Ges’ryth found themselves in a plain office, with metal filing cabinets along one wall, and a desk taking up the other. 

The man sitting behind it was a colonel, and Ianto communicated that to Ges’ryth as she moved them right up to the desk, standing tall and crossing their arms across their chest.   They looked down at their captor, and Ianto could feel their face twist is disdain.  “You are the leader here?” Ges’ryth demanded haughtily.

The UNIT colonel looked up at them just as haughtily.  “I’m Colonel Dexter,” he answered.  “You’re my prisoner, I suggest you remember that.”

“My people will be looking for me,” Ges’ryth said, “and they will not take kindly to the treatment I’ve been receiving.”

Dexter smiled, and Ianto would have shivered from its malice if his autonomic functions hadn’t been subsumed under Ges’ryth’s consciousness.  “I think you’ll find it might be very difficult for them to trace you, since you came through the Rift.”

Ges’ryth snorted.  “Please.   This is the Tauri homeworld, and the Goa’uld are quite familiar with it.  I can assure you, they won’t be intimidated by you or anyone else.  They have weapons you won’t have even dreamed of.”

Ianto could tell she was speaking the truth.  It was as if he somehow had access to her knowledge; he could immediately recall ships and weaponry that he’d never seen before.   _“There is a reason it is called Blending,”_ she said mentally.  _“We can share knowledge easily.  I choose to share this with you.”_

Ianto, in turn, opened his mind to her, to show her what he knew of UNIT and their weaponry and procedures.  She thanked him.

Dexter didn’t seem all that intimidated.  “I want to make you a proposition.”

“What can a proposition from a Tauri mean to me?”  Ges’ryth demanded.

“You owe me.  I got you that body, after all.”

A smile curved their lips.  “It’s quite a nice body, I do admit.  Although I had to work very hard to make it…livable.”

“I chose that body for you, for a reason,” Dexter said.  “The first being, he was the only survivor of a devastating virus, and you were our chance to revive him.  Hell, we don’t even know how he survived.”

Ges’ryth nodded their head, but said nothing.  Ianto listened carefully, surprised that he’d been the only survivor.  Of course, Ges’ryth had said he wouldn’t have lived without her intervention, so whatever had kept him alive hadn’t been guaranteed.

_“You were very close to death when I blended with you.   Truly, you would not have survived much longer.”_

“I think you owe me – “

Ges’ryth laughed.  “I owe you?  I think you underestimate your contribution, little Tauri.”

She was quite a good actress.  

_“Thank you.”_   He could practically feel the mental blush.  He only hoped it didn’t show on the outside.

Dexter looked distinctly unhappy.  “It seems that the rumors of Goa’uld hubris aren’t much exaggerated, after all.”

“Why should we exaggerate?  We are worshipped as gods.” 

“Well, you’re not a god here,” the colonel snapped.   “You’re a prisoner.”

Ianto felt their mouth widen in an unnatural smile. “If you say so.”

Dexter actually shivered at  it.

“So,” Ges’ryth drawled,  “how do you think I owe you?  Perhaps if the answer is good enough, I’ll do as you ask.”

“You owe me for the body you have.”

Ges’ryth pretended to consider, but she told Ianto that she had no intention of doing anything that Dexter asked.  Ianto thought that was a good idea.

“True,” she finally said, “although from your earlier comment you only offered it to me in order to save it.”

That had been the impression that Ianto had gotten, as well.  He wondered what made him so important that a UNIT colonel would somehow get him away from Jack and Gwen, and then risk implanting an alien inside him.

_“That is an excellent question, my friend…although I think you were worth saving.”_

It was Ianto’s turn to blush mentally.

“True,” Dexter admitted.  “But I propose a trade: your freedom, for  certain information from your host.”  He steepled his fingers, watching them closely.  “The young man you find yourself inhabiting is from an organization known as Torchwood; and is, in fact, their Archivist.   I need to know what’s in his brain…about his organization, what aliens he’s been in contact with, alien tech he’s had access to…and about his boss, a certain Jack Harkness.  You give me that, and I’ll make certain you have your freedom.”

Ianto was shocked…but more than anything, he was outraged.  UNIT hadn’t saved him because it was the right thing to do – although he’d already suspected that wasn’t the case – but because of his work in Torchwood, and his relationship with Jack.  He wanted to reach across that desk and kill the bastard, for using both himself and Ges’ryth in such a way. 

_“Let me handle this,”_ Ges’ryth said, and he could hear the same outrage in her mental voice that he, himself, was feeling.  

Suddenly, Ges’ryth laughed, a horrible, almost mad sound.  “Oh, little Tauri, you truly know nothing about the Goa’uld!  If you did, then you’d have known that when we merge with another, there is nothing left of the host.  Nothing at all.  I cannot give you what you want because it doesn’t exist any longer.  You have managed to get on the bad side of a Goa’uld for _nothing_.”

Dexter actually paled.  “Nothing is left?” he stammered, obviously in shock.

“Nothing, fool.  The Goa’uld  have no need for host memories.  You have failed in what you’d hoped to achieve.”  They leaned forward.  “How does it feel?” Ges’ryth asked, sounding gleeful.

Ianto wondered if that was true, that the Goa’uld actually erased their hosts’ minds…

_“No.  They like to think they do, but the host is still in there.  I wasn’t about to use your knowledge to gain our freedom, though.  We’ll find some other way out of here.”_

He was horribly grateful.  There had always been a bit of bad blood between Torchwood and UNIT, simply because on British soil Torchwood had jurisdiction, and UNIT didn’t care for that one bit.  If Ianto was thought of as dead…then they could do whatever they wanted to, use him however they wanted.   No one would come to find him; no one would know what was being done to him. 

It was just him and Ges’ryth now.  Her act wasn’t going to get them out, but at least it had stopped UNIT from trying to wring him dry of everything he’d learned since joining Torchwood.  Ianto had so many secrets…and they weren’t for some UNIT colonel with an ax to grind against Torchwood. 

Dexter rose from his chair, anger replacing the shock on his sallow face.  “Take it back to its cell,” he ordered the two guards.    

Ianto could feel Ges’ryth tensing their now-shared body, and he calmed her down.

_“You’re right,”_ she said, as they dragged them back to their prison.  _“I would only get us injured by fighting back.”_

That was true, but also Ianto wanted to lull them into underestimating them.  If they suddenly went kung-fu fighter on the guards, which was what he’d felt Ges’ryth was going to do, then they might very lose the prospect of surprise later on.

_‘Very true,”_ the Tok’ra agreed ruefully.  _“I already see that you are going to be a good throttle on my…rather impetuous nature, as my mentor was often fond of saying.”_

Ianto laughed at that. 

Ges’ryth laughed as well, even as they were being thrown back into the cell.  _“I do have a question though:  what does this mean, ‘kung-fu fighter’?”_  
  


 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Martha Jones-Smith sighed, leaning her forehead into her hand.  A headache was threatening right behind her eyes, and she knew it would be full-blown in no time at all.

She could feel Mickey’s eyes on her.  Her husband wasn’t as stressed as she was; but then, he didn’t know the man in the grainy photo taken from security footage from a camera in the secure UNIT holding facility just outside London.  Not like she did.

She raised her head, looking at the picture once more.  Her eyes stared at the image; while the hair was longer and obviously unwashed, and the body was thinner, it was very obviously Ianto Jones being escorted by an armed guard, the glint of metal at wrists and waist indicating shackles.

Martha had sworn he was dead.  Jack had called her, not long after everything that had happened, and told her that Ianto had died in his arms.  Martha had wept; she’d known him from the Year That Never Was, and he’d saved her life once before being captured by the Master and killed.  After time had reset, she’d met him again when she’d worked with Torchwood, and they’d gotten on very well.   Jack had also told her all about him during their brief time together on the TARDIS, and she’d confided that she’d met him as she’d walked the Earth, and they’d bonded over Ianto in a way they hadn’t done as Companions.

 Jack had been distraught when he’d called to break the news, and he’d confessed to Martha Ianto’s last words…and Jack’s inability to say them back. 

Seven months…and she was just finding out that Ianto was still alive, somehow, and was being held by UNIT under something called Project: Serpent.

It had been sheer luck that Martha had found out.  It had been one of her friends at UNIT who’d accidentally discovered Project: Serpent, and had recognized the almost-unrecognizable form in the security shots.  Shreela had been one of the assistants at UNIT New York, who’d survived the Daleks during the Stolen Earth incident, and she’d felt she owned Martha something for what had happened.  For the very first time Martha was grateful for that, for her notoriety as having traveled with the Doctor, because Shreela had been at the right place at the right time, and had been one of the very few to see the Thames House footage.  It was how she’d known who was in the photo. 

She’d also known that Martha had been friends with Torchwood.  And, it hadn’t mattered what mud had been tossed around after the 456, Shreela hadn’t believed that Martha would have been friends with anyone who hadn’t deserved it.

And so, Martha had ended up with a copy of the picture, along with the words ‘Project: Serpent’.  She hadn’t even asked Shreela how she’d managed to get the evidence out of UNIT HQ.

“Damnit Jack,” she breathed, “you had to leave two weeks before we found out.”

“Captain Cheesecake always had shitty timing,” Mickey said, resting one of his hands on hers. 

Of course, the first thing Martha had done was try to find Jack.  She’d managed to track Gwen Cooper down, and the former Torchwood operative had given her the bad news: that Jack had left Earth, bowed under the weight of every one of his losses.  

Martha hadn’t told Gwen.  Perhaps she should have; but the other woman had confided that she was pregnant, and that she and her husband were going into hiding.  Only a handful of people were friendly to Torchwood these days, even though it had been UNIT and the government that had been at the heart of the 456 fiasco.

They’d needed a scapegoat.  Torchwood had been a convenient one, with no one willing – or able – to defend it.   

Martha had tried.  But no one had been willing to believe her, even when she’d invoked the Doctor and had revealed that Jack had, as well, been a Companion.   The Doctor himself had taken a hit in the reputation, for not showing up when the Earth had needed him, and the cachet of having traveled with him just didn’t pull the weight it once had.

In the end, Martha had had to retreat, and she’d hated to do it.  But there’d been no other alternative, unless she’d wanted to risk arrest herself.

But this…this was something else entirely.

“We have to get him out,” she said, her eyes not leaving the photo.

Mickey was quiet, and just as Martha was certain he wasn’t going to say anything, he answered. “You’re right.  We don’t know what they’re doing to him, but it can’t be good.”

Not for the first time was Martha glad that she’d met and married Mickey, instead of Tom.  She smiled at her husband.  “I think you’d like Ianto.  He’s a bit quiet, but can kick arse when he wants to.”

Mickey snorted.  “Anyone who can keep Jack Harkness in line is okay in my book.”

Despite his words, Martha knew that Mickey really liked Jack, and that this was his way of showing it.  Yes, he had – like her – been disappointed at hearing that he’d left the planet, but in a way Martha couldn’t blame Jack for going.  She would never understand what it was like to be immortal, but it had to be terrible to keep losing the ones you loved.   And staying on Earth would only remind him of his losses.

“We just need to figure out how we’re gonna do it,” Mickey went on.  “When you quit UNIT you lost any sort of security clearance that could have gotten us in there.”

“And that’s a secured facility,” Martha pointed out.  “I doubt even my clearance would’ve gotten us inside.”   She’d hated the idea of the prisons, and it had been one of the many reasons she’d finally quit UNIT.  She certainly hoped that the Doctor didn’t know just how bad UNIT had become; she knew he would never have condoned such inhumane treatment.

“I’m going to try to call the Doctor,” she decided, going for her mobile.  The Time Lord might be able to use any sort of pull to get Ianto out, but certainly he could come up with some sort of plan…

That was, if he was answering his phone.

Martha said something very unladylike, and left a message. 

“Up to us, then,” Mickey said, stating the obvious.

She tossed her mobile onto the table in disgust.  “Why is it there’s no one around when you need them?”

“Look,” he said, once again taking her hand.  “You and I can come up with something.”

“You have a lot of confidence in our abilities.”  Martha felt useless.  She couldn’t even save the man who’d saved her own life.

“There has to be a way to get in…”  Mickey’s voice trailed away, and he stood, a thoughtful look on his face. 

She watched him closely.  Mickey might come off as some sort of idiot, but one couldn’t be a fool and lead a parallel Earth’s forces against the Cybermen.   Martha could see his mind working, and she waited, tapping her fingernails on the table almost unconsciously. 

“What if,” Mickey mused, “we get them to bring Ianto out to us?”

“And how do you propose to do that?” she asked acerbically.

Mickey got a sly grin on his face.  “Leave that to me…”

 

**********

 

It turned out that a simple prisoner transfer request was all it took.

Of course, it meant Mickey had to hack into UNIT’s systems, and he managed to do it from an internet café just down the street from UNIT’s London Headquarters.  Something about generating the order from the same communication node; Martha didn’t really understand it.  Give her an alien toxin and she’d know her way around trying to cure it.  But computers were a bit beyond her, except for normal, everyday usage.   She could pay bills and shop online; but rescuing a friend from prison was something else entirely.

She was able to help him with the actual paperwork, however.  Martha still knew enough about who was in charge where in order to make the forms look authentic.  She wasn’t at all certain it would work, but it was worth a shot.

They added the order to the system, then tried to figure out the best route in order to waylay whatever would be used to transport Ianto to headquarters, where the paperwork ha d said to bring him under the guise of checking on the status of Project: Serpent, whatever that was.  If they’d done anything to him…Martha knew once she’d gotten in touch with a certain ex-Torchwood captain and a certain Time Lord, nothing would stop either of them bringing UNIT down.   Hell, the Doctor might anyway, if and when he discovered the truth. 

This was the organization he’d been so certain she’d fit well into.  He’d been wrong; there was no way she could condone some of UNIT’s practices, especially when it came to her friends.

“This is it,” Mickey murmured, closing the window with their map, and re-opening his check into UNIT proper.  He’d done something…he’d tried to explain, finally saying it was like putting a block on the outgoing email from the internment facility, so they’d know if the order was accepted. 

From what the screen was saying, it had been. 

The response wasn’t very polite, but there was an acknowledgment of the transfer, as well as the time it would be done. 

“We have three hours to get ready,” Mickey said, removing all of his footprints in the system, then closing down the laptop he’d used.  

“How do you propose we get them to stop for us?”

Mickey smirked.  “You still got that little mini number you wore to the pub right after I met you?”

Realization dawned on Martha.  “You’re not suggesting…?”  She laughed.  “That’s so cliché!”

“The clichés work best; after all, that’s why they’re clichés.  Besides, you have an arse that’d stop an alien invasion, let alone a military transport.”

“You know, it’s a damned good thing I married you, otherwise I’d have to slap you.”

“Hey, I’m a red-blooded man; I can appreciate a woman’s assets!”

Martha snorted.  “You better not be appreciating any other woman but me.”

Mickey stood, wrapping an arm around her.  “Appreciation doesn’t cover what you do to me, Martha Jones-Smith.”

“I really think you have been around Jack too much.”  She smiled to take away any possible sting to her words, leaning forward and kissing him lightly.  Then she pulled away reluctantly.  “I need to change, and you need to get your gear ready.”

Mickey sighed.  “You’re right.”  He gathered up his laptop, and together they left the café, heading back to their flat. 

 

**********

 

In the end, the whole rescue mission went easily…too easily, to Martha’s mind.

The transport had turned out to be a military-grade Hummer, painted black with heavily-tinted windows.  She and Mickey set up in one of the residential areas that the transport would be traveling through, a car that Mickey had conveniently stolen for the rescue parked across the road, Martha hanging off the open bonnet with her rear in the air, the barely-there skirt riding up her thighs and leaving nothing to the imagination.

The Hummer had no choice but to stop, since it was far too large to get around the supposed broken-down vehicle.  Once one of the soldiers had gotten out to push the car out of the way, it had taken Martha two seconds to have him unconscious on the ground, the hypodermic syringe with the sedative she’d prepared sticking up from the man’s shoulder. 

 Mickey, wearing a balaclava and dressed all in black, had come out of hiding to confront the Hummer’s driver, yanking open the passenger door and sticking his rather large blaster into the open vehicle.  By the time Martha had joined him, the driver was also unconscious and handcuffed to the steering wheel, and her husband was grabbing the keys from the ignition.  “Let’s get our boy, shall we?”

“Shouldn’t there be more soldiers?” Martha asked warily.

“Probably didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves,” Mickey answered, moving around to the rear compartment.  “This thing is armoured enough to withstand most rocket-based weaponry.  And I doubt they expected trouble.”

Martha had to admit that made some sense.

She joined her husband as he pulled open the door, revealing an orange-clad form huddled in the back seat.  Manacles encircled wrists, waist, and ankles, and a black bag had been pulled over the head.  But there was no panic in the man’s movements as he tried to pull himself upright. 

Martha clambered up into the back, yanking the bag from the prisoner’s head.  Even with the long hair and scraggly beard, she would have known Ianto Jones anywhere.   “It’s me,” she soothed him when he pulled away from her a bit. 

Was it her imagination, or had Ianto’s eyes flashed?

“Martha?” he asked, blinking rapidly. 

“Yeah,” she laughed a little.  “We need to get you out of here before the guards wake up.”   Mickey passed her the keyring that had been in the ignition, and she flipped through the keys, looking like something that would fit the shackles.

It took a few precious moments, but the cuffs were finally left in the floorboard as she helped Ianto from the Hummer.  He was definitely thinner than she’d remembered, and he smelled as if he hadn’t had a bath in about a week, but she couldn’t help but hug him.

Ianto hugged her back, sighing.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she returned.  Then she pulled back.  “Come on, we need to go.”  She took his hand, leading him toward their stolen car.  “Oh, this is Mickey,” she introduced her husband.  “Mickey…Ianto.”

“Good to finally meet you, mate,” Mickey said, moving around them in order to shut the bonnet and slide behind the steering wheel. 

Ianto let Martha push him into the back seat and she climbed in beside Mickey, who took off in a slight bit of tire squeal.  She turned in her seat to look at her friend…the friend she’d thought was dead.  “What happened?” she asked.

Ianto sighed.  “It’s a story I think should wait until Mickey isn’t driving.”

“That sounds ominous.”

He smiled at her slightly, almost apologetically.  “How did you know where I was?”

She explained to him about her friend, and how she’d recognized him from both the Thames House footage and from the security video from the UNIT facility. 

After she was done, Ianto reached through between the two front seats and clasped her hand.  “Thanks again, Martha.  You too, Mickey.”

Mickey had removed the balaclava, and grinned.  “Any friend of Martha’s and all that.  ‘Sides, we couldn’t leave you in UNIT’s hands.”

“Does Jack know?” Ianto asked.

Martha’s heart sank.  “No…I’m sorry, Ianto, but Jack’s not on the planet anymore.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Ianto felt something break loose in his chest at Martha’s announcement.

_Jack’s not on the planet anymore._

He could feel Ges’ryth curling around his mind in a mental hug, trying to comfort him.  He silently thanked her, then asked Martha, “What happened?”  He simply couldn’t conceive Jack leaving the Earth, not when he was still needed.

“His losses just got too much for him,” Martha explained from the front seat.  “Losing you was bad enough…but the price he had to pay to defeat the 456 just about broke him.” 

“What do you mean?”  Ianto was afraid to hear her answer, but he needed to know.

“He…the 456 were emitting a signal that they discovered could be sent back to them and used to destroy them.  The only thing was…” she paused, nibbling her lower lip, “a child had to be sacrificed to send the signal.  Jack…had to use the only child he had, which was his grandson.”

“He…”  Ianto swallowed hard.  Poor Jack, having no choice but to use his on grandson in order to save the world’s children…

_“Your loved one has suffered much,”_ Ges’ryth murmured, and he could feel her own disbelief and pain in the mental caress.  _“I find I cannot blame him for wanting to leave the place of so much loss.”_

Ianto couldn’t really, either, although he hated the idea of Jack out there, somewhere, alone with his guilt and pain.

_“We shall find him,”_ Ges’ryth promised fiercely.  _“The Tok’ra have many resources, as do the Tauri of the SGC.  We will find your loved one and get him back to you.”_

He hoped it would be that easy.

“What about Gwen?” he asked, hoping his last connection to Torchwood was safe.

“She’s fine,” Martha answered.  “She and Rhys have gone to ground, which is one of the reasons they aren’t here with us.  The other being that she’s pregnant, and I won’t do anything to endanger the baby.  She doesn’t know you’re still alive.”

“That’s fine,” Ianto said, sagging in relief.  “You’re right; I don’t want anything to happen to her and her baby.”  He was somewhat surprised that Jack hadn’t stayed for her, but it confirmed to him that his instincts about hers and Jack’s relationship wasn’t what Gwen had thought it had been. 

“Look,” Mickey said, glancing into the rearview mirror, “we need to dump this car soon.   Ianto, mate, there’s a bag down on the floorboard back there.  It contains clothes and an electric razor.  You might wanna get changed and cleaned up as best you can.  We don’t want to take any evidence with us when we switch cars.”

Ianto pushed back the sadness he was feeling over Jack’s horrific decisions and rooted around until he found the black gym bag.  Opening it, he found everything Mickey had claimed, and he changed as best he could in the backseat.  The trousers and shirt fit surprisingly well; they were a little big, but not that anyone would really notice.  The underwear and shoes were spot on.  “How did you know my sizes?” he asked as he buttoned the black shirt.

He couldn’t see Martha’s face – she’d turned around the moment Ianto had started stripping off the horrid orange jumpsuit in order to give him some privacy – but it was obvious she was embarrassed.  “When the UNIT cap that Jack had me send him became a hit with you two, he asked me for a full uniform.  I refused, but that didn’t stop him from sending me your sizes.  I…never got the uniform, but I vaguely remembered what Jack told me.”

“I asked her the same question when we were at the store,” Mickey teased.  “I didn’t want an excuse to be jealous.”

Ianto couldn’t help but smile; that was just so Jack.   “So, what’s the plan after we dump this car?”

“We’ve rented a cottage up near Aberaeron,” Martha answered.  “It’s not quite holiday season yet, but we told the estate agent that Mickey and I were honeymooners, and that we really wanted the privacy.”

“We might not technically be honeymooners anymore,” Mickey added, “but I like to think we’re still in that honeymoon period.”

Martha rolled her eyes.  “After we get there, we lay low until we can either reach the Doctor or Jack.  Whatever UNIT wanted you for, you know they’ll be looking for you.  And we won’t let them get you without a fight.”

Ianto felt pathetically grateful for both Mickey and Martha, and for them coming to save himself and Ges’ryth.  The last month or so had been bad; Dexter had stopped the experiments he’d been running on his regenerative properties, and they’d been left mostly alone.  Both Ianto and Ges’ryth had doubted that they’d remain alive much longer, now that their usefulness had been at an end.  Their transfer had been a sign of that, since Dexter hadn’t put up too much of a fight over it.

They had, however, had plenty of time for their blending to settle.  Ianto had been surprised at just how well Ges’ryth’s mind meshed with his, and the Tok’ra had been very pleased that everything had gone well.  She’d commented that, many times, forced blendings did not work – not that that wasn’t what the Goa’uld did; they simply overwhelmed their hosts and took what they wanted.  Tok’ra preferred to ask for permission to blend, and usually knew who was going to be compatible with them. 

“That’s something we’ll need to talk about when we get there,” Ianto replied.  “I…have some ideas about that.”

“Good,” Martha said in relief, “because it’s going to be hard keeping you out of UNIT hands indefinitely.  The best thing to do is get you off world.”

_“You may never be able to return here while UNIT is after you,”_ the symbiote said apologetically.

Well, Ianto had always wanted to see other worlds anyway, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss at being forced to leave his home planet.

 

**********

 

They switched cars in a parking lot in Orpington, which was in the opposite direction where Mickey intended to drive.  The vehicle that was waiting for them was a late model Ford, and it was packed with everything they’d need for at least a couple of weeks by the seaside.  Ianto took the back seat again, and curled up on it, the hard seat the most comfortable bed he’d had since his incarceration, even though he couldn’t stretch out. 

He was exhausted, and it wasn’t until he could relax completely that his utter tiredness really hit him.  Ianto could feel the same coming from Ges’ryth, and he could easily tell when she went to sleep, her mind a pleasant humming against his.  He followed her quickly, and for one of the very few times in months his sleep was dreamless.

 

**********  

 

Ianto awoke slowly, sunlight spattering against the far wall from the window that he’d been too tired to close when he’d stumbled to bed late last night.  He squinted into it, realized that he hadn’t, in fact, seen the sunlight since he was supposed to have died, and practically jumped out of bed to look out the window.

The view of the ocean was spectacular.

_“Your world is quite beautiful,”_ Ges’ryth said admiringly. 

Ianto had to agree, and it especially looked wonderful now that he was free of UNIT.  He only hoped they could stay that way until they could find a way off world.

_“Quit being so gloomy!  We’re on our way.  With the help of your friends, I’m certain we can locate the people we need to aid in our escape.”_

Her confidence was contagious.  Ianto found himself smiling.

He had no idea how long he stood at the window, but the smell of coffee roused him from his appreciation of the outside world.  Ianto gathered up some fresh clothes – Martha had gotten him several shirts and pairs of trousers and jeans, but no suits; that was actually fine with him, since Ianto no longer felt like Torchwood.  He could be just plain Ianto Jones for a while…well, Ianto Jones with an alien symbiote in his head.

Shower first.  Coffee second.

The shower felt heavenly.  After seven months of being hosed down with cold water, this was the closest he’d been clean.  The feel of the soap against his skin was almost orgasmic, and he wasn’t even going to get into what having clean hair meant.

Ianto found the razor and made a more thorough job of shaving; last night, without a mirror, he’d been hit or miss.  The face in the mirror looked different to him; it was pale and thin, blue eyes appearing larger than he could remember.  His hair fell in tangles to his shoulders, and he wondered if he could talk either Martha or Mickey into giving him a trim.

The cut on his cheek was gone; there wasn’t even a scar.

_“Physical injuries are easier to heal than the biological weapon you were exposed to,”_ Ges’ryth answered.  _“It took no effort at all.”_

Ianto nodded.  That made sense. 

With Ges’ryth coiled about his hind-brain like a contented cat, Ianto headed downstairs, following the smell of coffee and bacon, his stomach telling him it was way past time to eat.  He was actually feeling human again; clean body, clean clothes…all he needed now was food, and the change back would be complete. 

He found Martha sitting at the small kitchen table and nursing a coffee while Mickey bustled around the stove.  Martha grinned as she saw him, getting up and giving him a hug.  “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she murmured.

Ianto hugged her back.   “So am I.”  He pulled back, grinning.  “Coffee?”

Martha laughed.  “I should have known coffee would trump hugging.”  She tugged him toward the table.  “It’s not a patch on yours, but it’s got enough caffeine in it to get you going.”

_“I have seen you think of coffee before,”_ Ges’ryth said mentally, _“but I am waiting to taste it myself.”_

“Better get it before it’s gone,” Mickey teased, turning from the stove and brandishing a spatula.  “Breakfast is nearly done.”

“You’ll need to be careful,” Martha admonished, going into doctor mode.  “I’m sure they haven’t been feeding you much.”

“True,” Ianto admitted, sitting at the table.  He took the opportunity to look around; the holiday cottage’s kitchen was tiny, but clean.  It had been stocked with basic amenities, and the appliances were a bit out of date, but it was cozy and considerably above Ianto’s last abode.

Martha set a mug down in front of him, and Ianto practically buried his face in it, inhaling the rich aroma as if he had to breathe it to survive.  _“That smells divine,”_ Ges’ryth said appreciatively as her host raised the mug to his lips.

It might not have been up to the par of Ianto’s personal blend, but he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips after his first sip in months.

_“That is lovely,”_ Ges’ryth agreed.  _“A bit overpowering, but your endorphins have just risen to levels higher than I have ever felt.  I think we need some of this on the Tok’ra homeworld.”_

The breakfast – eggs, bacon, and toast – went down well with the coffee, and Ianto felt he couldn’t have tasted anything better.  As he savored his first real food since Thames House, he considered his next move…specifically, just how he was going to break the news to his friends that he wasn’t exactly alone in his own body anymore.

_“That is a dilemma,”_ the symbiote replied.  _“I do see that you trust them.”_

Ianto did, at that.  Martha was a friend…not close, but she knew Jack, and Jack had trusted her implicitly.  His former lover had talked about the Year that Never Was, and Ianto was well aware of what Martha had done.  He shared the story with Ges’ryth, who agreed that Martha most definitely could be counted on. 

As for Mickey…Jack had been trying very hard to recruit him to Torchwood, and he’d travelled with the Doctor.  Jack had also trusted him as well, and if there was one thing Ianto could say was that he himself had trusted Jack, despite the secrets.  But then, everyone had secrets, and Ianto hadn’t ever wanted to pry.  He looked back on his behaviour when he’d found out that Jack had a daughter, and was ashamed of it.  Ianto had prided himself on his ability to accept Jack for who he was, and he’d failed in that one moment. 

_“You cannot tear yourself apart over a mistake of the past.”_   Ges’ryth pointed out.  _“That way lies self-destruction.”_

The symbiote had a point.

_“Besides,”_ she said cheerfully, _“when we find your loved one, you can have fantastic make-up sex.”_

Ianto choked on his eggs, causing both Mickey and Martha to look at him oddly.

_“I cannot pretend to understand this form of procreation,”_ she went on.  _“However, it appears to be very pleasurable –“_

He made a little squeak as he tried to clear his airway.   Mickey slapped him on the back, while Martha looked more and more alarmed.  Ianto hoped that the redness in his face would be put down to not being able to breathe, instead of embarrassment. 

_“Have I embarrassed you?”_ Ges’ryth asked innocently.  _“I do apologize, my friend.”_

The symbiote didn’t sound very apologetic.

“I’m all right,” he tried to reassure his human friends, while growling inwardly at his Tok’ra one.

“Take a drink,” Martha urged, handing him his cup of coffee.  Ianto did so, and it helped immensely.  “When you feel up to it, maybe you can tell us how you came to be alive when everyone thought you were dead, and how you ended up in UNIT custody.”

Ianto leaned back in his chair, the rest of his breakfast forgotten.  He wondered just how they were going to react, and realized it most likely wouldn’t be as bad as he was anticipating.  Or it could be a disaster.

_“Simply be honest.  They will understand.”_

“I don’t honestly know how I survived the virus let loose in Thames House,” he began.   “Neither does UNIT.  But somehow I did, but I was very close to death when they did notice.”

“How did they cure you?” Martha asked, intrigued.

“They didn’t.”

“But how…?”  The doctor in Martha was coming to the fore once more.  

Ianto sighed.  “That’s where things get…strange.  I don’t know how long ago it was, but there was an alien spacecraft that had been pulled through the Rift and crashed, and UNIT did the clean-up.  Inside, they found a member of an alien race known as the Tok’ra.”

Obviously neither Martha nor Mickey recognized the name, and Ianto continued.  “The Tok’ra are a symbiotic race, and by the time UNIT had arrived her host was critically injured, with no hope for survival.  UNIT forcibly removed the symbiote and took her prisoner.”

Understanding was blooming in Martha’s eyes.  “They put this alien inside you?”

“They did.  Part of the benefit to a host to have a symbiote is pretty miraculous healing.  It was touch and go, but she was able to pull me through.”

He could feel Ges’ryth’s support warming him, as he watched as the ramifications of what he’d just said made their way through his two friends.  Martha seemed a combination of appalled and curious, while Mickey was nodding.  “This symbiote…it’s still in you?” he asked.

“She is,” Ianto confirmed.  He eyed Mickey warily, knowing there was a rather large gun somewhere in the cabin, although he seemed to be taking it very well.  There was still a chance this could all blow up on them, and he knew he’d do his best to protect himself and Ges’ryth if fireworks started.  “Would you like to meet her?”

Martha’s eyes went wide.  “It’s intelligent?”

“Yes, _she_ is,” Ianto answered, getting a bit irritated at their continuing to refer to Ges’ryth as ‘it’.  Yes, he could understand it; they didn’t know about the Tok’ra, so it made some sense, but once he’d assigned a gender to his symbiote, they should have been referring to her that way.  But he’d expected Martha to be different, what with her exposure to the Doctor and of the Time Lord’s love of all things alien.

_“_ Your _symbiote?”_ Ges’ryth’s mental voice was amused, and yet she’d begun radiating happiness at his acceptance. 

Of course she was his. 

_“We had never discussed our blending beyond our arrival on the Tok’ra homeworld.  It would be an honour if you would consider taking our partnership into the future.”_

Ianto hadn’t given it much thought; however he was beginning to wonder if he could really let them remove Ges’ryth without a fight.  She was his friend, and Ianto didn’t want to lose that.

Ges’ryth’s mental presence warmed, and she gave him the mental version of a hug.  _“You are my friend as well, Ianto Jones.  I can’t see myself blended with anyone else.  Now, allow me to prove to your other friends that I am worthy of being your symbiote.”_

Ianto lowered his head, hiding his eyes; he’d learned from Ges’ryth that the Tok’ra did that in order to obscure their glowing eyes.  Most who knew of the Tok’ra and their connection to the Goa’uld were often uncomfortable with seeing the switchover from host to symbiote, and the Tok’ra were polite enough to want to avoid any discomfort among potential allies.  Although, according to Ges’ryth, that didn’t stop the majority of them from being pompous, entitled twits.    

He could feel her sliding easily into control.  As the blending had settled, the disconnect that Ianto had once felt no longer as sharp; in fact, the transfer had become rather seamless.  He no longer felt as if he was giving up a part of himself to her, and he trusted her implicitly to return his body to him when she was finished, or when he asked her to.

“Greetings,” she said through his mouth, the strange atonal thrumming that identified her as Tok’ra underlying his own voice.  “I am Ges’ryth of Palidor.  It is a pleasure to meet the friends of Ianto Jones, although I could wish it was under different circumstances.  Ianto thinks very highly of you.”  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

 

Martha sat there, in shock, as whatever UNIT had implanted in her friend took over Ianto’s body and began talking to them

And it wasn’t just Ianto’s voice that changed, although that was the main difference she noticed.  They were subtle; the way Ianto sat in his chair, stiffer and more formal; a certain light in the familiar blue eyes; the age in his gaze.  There was knowledge there too; while she remembered Ianto being intelligent, there was simply too much knowledge in him now, as if he knew things he shouldn’t and it shown from his eyes like twin beacons. 

She was so impossibly mad at UNIT for doing it; and yet, at the same time, she was conflicted, because despite everything Ianto was alive, even if he wasn’t completely himself anymore.   And wasn’t him being alive for the better?

Martha had seen so much with the Doctor, and she prided herself on being open-minded about a lot of things.  But the very idea that there was something inside Ianto, something that wasn’t human…it bothered her more than a little.

Mickey though seemed to be taking it all in stride.  Her husband was staring at Ianto – or, technically, it was this Ges’ryth of Palidor who had taken control – and looked as if he were so full of questions he wanted to burst with them. 

“Where are you from?” was his first question, followed quickly by, “How did you get here?”

Ianto’s face was calm.  “As Ianto has said, I am of the Tok’ra,” the strange, atonal sound that was now Ianto’s voice answered.  “For the longest time, my people had no homeworld; we were refugees.  But now we do, and as of the last time I was there we had not named it as yet beyond calling it the Tok’ra Homeworld.  As for how I arrived, myself and my previous host were on our way to the Jaffa Free Homeworld when a strange golden light engulfed our _tel’tak_ and we ended up crashing here.  Ianto has since explained the Rift to me, and we know that that was what brought Teslin and I here.”

“And your previous host was killed?”  Martha asked.

“Yes.  I tried to heal her, but her injuries were too severe.  One of the benefits of being a host is that we, as symbiotes, can help with even some of the most critical wounds, but Teslin was too far gone. ”  Ianto’s face darkened.  “I was so very glad to see that we had crashed on the Tauri homeworld, thinking we would be safe…but I was wrong, and UNIT found us and forcibly removed me from Teslin before I could die with her.  I was kept prisoner in a tank for so long I do not know the time of it anymore.”

Even though Martha still wasn’t sold on this whole symbiote thing, she felt a pang of anger on Ges’ryth’s behalf.  “How did they know you were even in your host?” she wanted to know. 

“The UNIT colonel who led their team was knowledgeable of my race,” Ges’ryth answered.  “He saw the tell-tale sign of Teslin carrying a symbiote, and he had no qualms of cutting me from her body.   He thought…well, he thought I was Goa’uld, and had not even considered that I might not be.  That proved to be his downfall, if I may say so.”

“Wait,” Mickey said, “there are other races of symbiotes out there?”

Ianto – Ges’ryth – shook his head.  “The Tok’ra are an offshoot of the Goa’uld.  However, while the Tok’ra believe in coexistence with our hosts, the Goa’uld simply take what they want and quash any resistance the unwilling host might put up to the invasion of their bodies.  They are also quite power-mad, which the UNIT Colonel – Dexter – tried to exploit.  He had hoped that, if he gave me a new host, that I would, in turn, repay him by giving him all of Ianto’s secrets.  That was his motivation in saving Ianto’s life:  in gaining everything that Ianto knew of Torchwood and his Captain.”

“Bloody hell,” Mickey muttered angrily. 

Martha really was outraged now.   Even though she’d known that Ianto had been held prisoner, and that UNIT had implanted an alien creature within him, there’d been a small part of her that had hoped they’d done it out of some sense of altruism, after finding out that Ianto had somehow survived the 456’s virus.  She knew she had a tendency to think the best in any situation – a holdout from her time with the Doctor – and it wasn’t something she could just dismiss unless the evidence was strong to the contrary.  There hadn’t been really much chance that UNIT had meant well, especially after they’d pretty much blamed the entire 456 debacle on Torchwood, but she couldn’t help it.  It was part of her nature.

“Of course,” Ges’ryth went on, “Dexter did not get that information.  I lied to him and said that there was nothing left of Ianto after I ‘took control’ of his body.  Dexter was quite put out.”  The smile that graced Ianto’s features was one full of self-satisfaction.   “There was not much use for us after that, except of course for…experimentation.”  The smile vanished, replaced by pain.  “I believe our usefulness was about to come to an end, before you rescued us.  The tests had ceased perhaps two weeks ago, and Ianto thought that it was only a matter of time before UNIT thought it was more effort to keep us alive than to simply kill us.”

“Makes sense,” Mickey said.   “Law of diminished returns.  They weren’t getting anything out of you, so it meant you weren’t useful anymore. “

The familiar blue eyes unfocussed slightly then brightened once again.  “Yes, Ianto agrees with you.  We are both grateful that you were able to find us, and to save us.  Although,” a self-deprecating smile twisted Ianto’s lips, “I do understand that I am a surprise in this rescue.   It doesn’t stop me from being glad of it, though.”

“Is there a way to separate the two of you?” Martha asked.  She didn’t like the thought of Ianto having what amounted to a parasite in his body, even one who seemed to be on the up-and-up.

“There is.  On my homeworld, we have a device that can be used to remove the symbiote from the host, with no lasting damage to either.  To do it without, would cause the death of at least one of us –“

Suddenly, Ianto’s eyes glowed, and his body language changed.  He practically glared at Martha, who reared back from its intensity.

“While I appreciate your concern,” Ianto – and it really was Ianto this time, his voice and mannerisms back to normal – growled, “as of now I’m not even thinking about removing Ges’ryth.  She and I have been through too much together, and she’s a friend.  Anything we do, we do _together_.”

“Whoa, mate,” Mickey exclaimed.  “No need to fly off the handle like that.”

Ianto sighed, visibly relaxing.  “Yes, you’re right.  I’m sorry, Martha.  It’s just that Ges’ryth and I have had to rely on each other for months.  She saved my life, when she didn’t have to, and she protected Torchwood’s secrets from Dexter.  Our blending might have been forced, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work.”

“And you don’t have any idea how you survived the virus?”  Martha thought getting back onto a somewhat neutral subject might be in order.  She should have guessed that Ianto would have been protective of Ges’ryth, after everything they’d been through, but she hadn’t known he’d react like that just by her simple question. 

But it did prove one thing to her: that Ianto could take control back anytime he wanted; that the symbiote didn’t have the upper hand over him.

Ianto shook his head.  “I only know that I was very close to death when UNIT finally realized that I wasn’t, in fact, deceased.  It was a puzzle to them, as well, and after Ges’ryth blended with me it pretty much wiped out any evidence that would have been left behind in my body.”

“I assume they tried to synthesize some sort of cure, then?”  Martha asked.

“They tried, but from what we were told they didn’t succeed.”

Martha considered that.  It didn’t make sense; after all, any sort of healing that the symbiote might have promoted should have left some sort of antibodies behind.

“I think that’s something for another day,” Mickey said pragmatically.  “Right now, we need to figure out a way to get the two of you off planet.”

Mickey was right; they could worry about Ianto’s mysterious survival later.  “I tried to call the Doctor this morning, before you woke up, and I didn’t get an answer.”

“Did you say you might have some ideas?” Mickey asked.

Ianto nodded.  “We can contact the SGC.”

That sounded a bit familiar to her.  “I think I’ve heard of that.”

“You might have, having been in UNIT.”

“There’s some rumours on the Internet, too,” Mickey commented.  “Something about some sort of attempted invasion over Antarctica not that long ago.”

 Ianto’s mouth quirked upward.  “Jack wasn’t very happy about finding that out after the fact.”

“But why would the SGC be willing to help?”  Martha was confused.

“The SGC made First Contact with the Goa’uld, and are on the front lines with the fight against them…”  Ianto’s eyes grew vague, and then suddenly slipped back into awareness.  “Ges’ryth says that the Tauri – that’s us Earth humans – are allies of the Tok’ra, and would be willing to transport us through the _Chappa’ai_ …the Stargate.”

 Martha knew she was missing a big chunk of the story, but she wasn’t certain they had time to be given everything.  Still, she hoped for at least the basics.  “The what?”

“The Stargate,” Ianto reiterated.  “The SGC: Stargate Command.  The original Stargate was found buried in Giza during an archaeological dig back in the 1920’s.  From what I understand, the program itself has only been up and running since 1997, when the Americans figured out a way to activate it.”

“How do you know about this, then?” Mickey wanted to know.  “Did Ges’ryth tell you?”

Ianto shook his head.  “Jack was privy to the program’s existence.   He had opportunity to speak to both Brigadier General O’Neill and Major General Landry on several occasions…usually when the SGC had done something stupid.  He often wondered why the Doctor hadn’t shut the program down from the start.”

“And they might be willing to let you go through this Stargate?” 

“I don’t think they’ll have an issue with it.  It’s just convincing them that Ges’ryth is who she claims, and then, of course, us actually making it to the U.S. without UNIT stopping us.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”  Martha sighed.  “Just how do we contact the SGC, then?  I don’t think we’d be able to just drop them an email or call them up and ask for help.”

Ianto smirked again.  “Actually, calling them is exactly what we should do.”

 

**********

 

Luckily for them, Mickey had had enough foresight to purchase several pre-paid mobiles. 

Why it took most of the day to make the actual call was Ges’ryth’s insistence that she be allowed to build some sort of scrambler to use in conjunction with the phone, which she thought was a very quaint piece of technology indeed.

Martha had always known that Ianto was intelligent; just from his understanding of the futuristic contact lenses that she’d used that time she’d worked with Torchwood had told her that.  But it was odd watching him as he took several of the kitchen’s small appliances apart, along with the television remote, in order to create the jumble of tech that reminded her of one of the Doctor’s own lash-ups.   It was always obvious when Ges’ryth was in control; and it still bothered Martha that another creature was taking over the body of her friend, although Ianto had accepted it with equanimity. 

And, if he was truly in his right mind – as she was suspecting – then Ianto didn’t have any desire to have Ges’ryth removed at all.

Ianto and Ges’ryth shared a bit of the history of the SGC and the Goa’uld, and the war between them, as they worked.  Martha had wondered why she hadn’t heard more than just vague mentions of if in her time with UNIT, but was beginning to realize that being a former Companion wasn’t the free pass she’d thought it had been at the time. 

Martha had also taken the time to explain to Ianto everything that had gone on after the defeat of the 456; of how Torchwood had been blamed.  Ianto hadn’t said anything, but Martha could tell he was angry about it. 

In the meantime, Mickey was busy online, trying to figure out just where they could call in order to get through to Stargate Command.  Ianto explained that the SGC was located under Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, and that there had to be some sort of public number they could try.  It didn’t take much looking, and he soon had the Public Information Office contact details.

A couple of hours later, everything was ready.

The cobbled together scrambler sat in the middle of the kitchen table, the disposable phone perched amid the wiring as if it were an odd-looking spider within a multi-coloured web.   Ianto was looking quite pleased with himself.  “Now, all we have to do is find out if the number Mickey found us will get us where we need to go.”  He dialed, making certain the speakerphone was on.

It took two rings for the phone to be answered, and it was done by a perky-sounding young woman with a smile in her voice.  “Cheyenne Mountain Public Information Office, Lieutenant Markham speaking.”

“I wish to be transferred to Stargate Command, to speak to either Brigadier General Jack O’Neill or Major General Hank Landry please,” Ianto answered pleasantly.   

“I’m sorry, Sir,” the Lieutenant answered, her tone a bit less friendly, “but I don’t have either officer on record at this facility.  I think you have the wrong number.”

“I assure you, I have the correct number.  If you would inform them that Torchwood is on the line?”  He rattled off a string of numbers that Martha thought must have been some of identification code or confirmation number.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then a sharp, “One moment please,” followed by a couple of clicks that meant the call was obviously being transferred somewhere else.  Then there was more silence, which seemed to stretch out for what felt like forever.

“They’re not buying it,” Mickey said softly.

“They’re confirming the code I gave them,” Ianto replied.  “If what Martha’s said about Torchwood being disbanded is true, then they’ll want to be absolutely certain this isn’t some sort of crank call.”

That made sense, after everything that had happened with the 456.  Torchwood had been dragged through the mud for what UNIT and the British Government had done, because everyone had needed a scapegoat and with Jack disappearing afterward it had been simply to place the blame on him, even after everything he’d lost in order to send the 456 packing.

Finally, the line was opened once more.  “This is Major General Landry,” a southern-accented American voice answered.  “To whom am I speaking?”

“I am Ianto Jones, Sir, formerly with Torchwood.”

“From what I’ve heard,” Landry said, “Ianto Jones died.  So, I suggest we cut the bull and get to the truth.”

There was something about Landry’s voice that made Martha immediately want to trust him.   She couldn’t place it; perhaps it was the taint of outrage in his voice as he spoke about Ianto’s ‘death’, but there was more to it than that and it bothered her a little. 

“I can assure you, Sir, the rumours of my death have been exaggerated…although, from what I understand, it was a very close thing.  Perhaps this will convince you:  the last time you spoke to Captain Harkness, it was about a dispute over a piece of alien tech that had fallen through the Cardiff Rift that General Samantha Carter had identified as a Zero Point Module, and what the Captain was certain was a 45th Century sex toy…”

Laughter echoed from the mobile’s speaker.  “God yes, I remember that!  Harkness was absolutely positive he was right…you should have seen Carter, she was livid!”  The laughter faded.  “All right, I believe you’re who you say you are.  How did you survive?”

“I have no idea, but I can tell you what happened after UNIT realized I wasn’t as dead as they thought.”

Ianto explained to Landry about waking up in a UNIT holding cell, with an alien symbiote in his head and with the world thinking he’d died.  He told the American about UNIT’s demands, and how Ges’ryth had impersonated a Goa’uld in order to hide the information that they’d wanted from Ianto’s head.  He finished with his rescue, introducing Mickey and Martha.   He even let Ges’ryth take over, and the symbiote gave the Major General some information on how he could confirm her identity.  Landry only interrupted a few times with questions, but seemed to accept what he was being told.

“And now you need a way offworld,” Landry commented. 

“Yes, Sir.  If UNIT should find us again…”

“Say no more, son.  Are you in a secure location?”

“For now, yes.”  Ianto looked relieved, and Martha reached across the table to squeeze his hand.  He smiled at her gratefully.

“It might take me a few days to get a team to you, so sit tight.  Contact me again if your situation changes.”

“I will, Sir.  Thank you for believing us.”

“You were pretty convincing.  Only a couple of people would have known about the ZPM incident, and from what Harkness had told me, he trusted you implicitly.  Plus the Tok’ra are our allies…even if they can be a stuck-up bunch of pains in my ass.  So yeah, getting you off Earth isn’t an option.  The four of you…be careful, all right?  I’ll take care of everything from my end.”

The call disconnected, and Martha sighed.  “That was surprisingly easier than I thought it would be.”

Mickey was smirking.  “Jack actually thought a piece of alien tech was a sex toy?”

Ianto rolled his eyes.  “You have no idea…”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Jack Harkness breathed against the burn of the hypervodka against the lining of his throat, even as he was motioning the bartender over for another, knowing today was going to yet be another day of getting drunk enough to develop alcohol poisoning…which, of course, never lasted very long.  He’d tried to drink himself to death, but he couldn’t keep up the alcohol consumption required to do that against his immortal metabolism.  Which meant he only got deathly ill, without the actual death part.

He didn’t really care, because killing himself would mean he didn’t have to face the pain his body went through in repairing the damage he was doing.  He deserved it; he didn’t deserve the calm of death, not after what he’d done.  Yes, he was torturing himself, and while he’d never been the level of masochist that John Hart had been, it still felt good to suffer for his sins.

The bartender gave him another drink, and Jack slammed that one back, the burn now comfortable enough that he didn’t react to it.  The bar he’d found himself in was a dive within the spaceport hub on Toreas Prime, a planet that had once been on the fringes of Goa’uld space before the System Lords had all but been wiped out.  Now it was a free port, run mostly by a conglomeration of trading races who didn’t have the benefit of a working Stargate.  Everything came through the spaceport, which made that particular bar fairly popular with the various races that traded on Toreas. 

Jack ordered another hypervodka.  He’d dropped so many credits in the place that all the bartenders knew him, and were more than happy to keep him supplied.  Getting as blind drunk as it was possible for him really didn’t help the emotional void within him, but at least it seemed to drown it out a little.

Thinking about Ianto and Steven was too much.  He preferred the haze alcohol afforded.

The bar was pretty well packed; not that Jack really noticed.  As long as the booze kept coming, the world could continue on its course.   He was halfway tempted to order several at once, so the bartender wouldn’t have to keep serving him, but refrained.  There was a difference in setting out to get drunk and actually looking like that had been your intention all along.

On his fifth shot, the bartender handed him a note.  Jack frowned, accepting it; the bartender jerked his head toward the far end of the room, and Jack glanced in the direction indicated…and saw the Doctor, looking tired and wan and just a little guilty.

The Doctor in turn nodded once, and then vanished.

_What the hell?_

Jack opened the note, reading its contents with a sudden sinking feeling.

 

_His name is Alonso._

Jack was too depressed to be angry.  He should have expected the Doctor would try to set him up with someone, in a weird attempt to help him heal from his losses; he should have known that this was how the Doctor saw him, as someone who could settle for a random shag and that it would make everything all right, instead of going back in time and fixing the actual issue.

Jack sighed tiredly, waving for another hypervodka.  He wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this shit yet.

He turned to the man sitting next to him.  He was wearing some sort of uniform, and from his angle of view Jack could tell he was good-looking, but with some faintly unfortunate ears.  He wondered just what had made the Doctor feel that this Alonso was Jack’s type…and then realized that the Doctor most likely thought _everyone_ was Jack’s type, when that was so very wrong.

He opened his mouth to get the man’s attention, but before he could he was interrupted by a female voice from his other side.  “You don’t want to talk to him,” the voice practically dripped flirtation.   “I’m much better looking.”

Jack twisted on his stool to look at the woman who had accosted him.  She was very attractive, dressed from neck to foot in black leather, the bustier under the fitted jacket barely keeping her breasts from exposing themselves.  Her black hair was pulled back in a messy tail, and sultry grey eyes were smiling at him.  “Captain Jack Harkness,” he introduced himself, almost from rote.  He held out his hand to her.

She smirked at him.  “Vala Mal Doran,” she answered, taking the hand.  Jack couldn’t help but notice the calluses on her palm, a sure sign that she knew her way around a gun.  He easily pegged her as a troublemaker, someone who was used to getting their way.

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you,” Jack said, “but as you can see, I’m busily trying to get myself as drunk as possible.”

“And hitting on strange men?” she teased, leaning her arm on the bar and regarding Jack closely.  “He’s nice, but really…why him, when you could have me?”

Jack was a little irritated.  He really hadn’t intended on doing much with this Alonso guy; he wasn’t in the mood, and quite honestly he really did just want to drown his sorrows for another day.  Besides, anyone that the Doctor threw in his direction was bound to be bad news.

And now, to have this woman coming onto him…God, he just wanted to be left alone.

“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice enough person –“

“You’re really horrible at first impressions then!”

“– but I’m really not interested.”  Hopefully that would give her enough of a clue to leave him be.

No such luck.

Instead, she leaned closer, and Jack ignored it, calling the bartender back over.  “”What if I told you I was actually looking for you?  Would that intrigue you?”

Jack snorted.  “Not particularly, no.”  There were enough enemies out there, and to be honest Jack really didn’t care who came after him.

“So you wouldn’t even consider coming with me?”

“Nope, not interested.”  Jack couldn’t even rake up the curiosity to see what she wanted.

Vala pouted.  “Then, at least let me buy you a drink, if you’re so determined to destroy your liver?”

 _It would just grow back,_ Jack didn’t say out loud.  Instead, he accepted her offer.  “I’d never turn down a free drink.”

The woman leaned over the bar, showing her cleavage to the bartender, who took the opportunity to ogle the display, and then he poured Jack another drink.

“Thanks,” Jack said, thinking he could at least be polite to her after brushing her off.  Then he reached for the glass…

And Vala snatched at his hand, and before Jack could react she’d slapped a piece of metal against his wrist, which promptly curled around, forming a close-fitting bracelet.

Jack pulled back roughly, but Vala didn’t seem to mind; she was grinning like she’d just won the New Vegas lottery.   “What the hell –“  He looked down at his wrist, where the band she’d put on him rested where his watch used to…before it had gotten blown up with the Hub.  It was a brass-coloured metal, with strange designs on it, and it took Jack a few seconds to recognize it as Goa’uld technology….and another couple of seconds to know exactly what it was. 

Vala was smirking, her eyes shining, her own wrist displaying a similar band.  “It’s a kor mak bracelet –“ she began.

“I know what it is,” he snapped, his free hand darting for his Webley…but it was gone as well, lost in the wreckage of his life.  Instead, it came over to wrap around the device, tugging at it angrily.  It linked him to her; they wouldn’t be able to get too far apart without feeling the effects, and if they were separated more than one hundred feet, it could lead to death.  Of course, Jack would come back, but if Vala also died somewhere away from him he doubted he would be able to come back long enough to actually find a way to remove it himself.  And, honestly, while Jack almost craved death for the temporary peace it brought, he really didn’t feel up to dying over and over again, and not being able to do a damned thing about it.

She leaned closer, losing the smug expression.  In its place, something serious appeared, and Jack found himself staring her down.  “I didn’t want to do that,” Vala admitted, “but I doubt you’d have come with me, and it’s important that you do.”

Before Jack could say anything, she had pushed away from the bar, and was heading toward the exit.  Jack had no choice but to catch up with her.  “Just what do you want?” he demanded, rubbing the kor mak roughly.

“I’d tell you,” she answered, “but I don’t think you’d believe me.  So I’m taking you to someone you _would_ believe.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

“You shouldn’t decide that until you’ve heard what it is.”  Then her flirtatiousness returned, and she gave him a saucy wink.  “Besides, it means you get to spend more time in my company, and that can’t be all that bad, can it?”

Jack didn’t say anything.  He didn’t think he could be civil toward her.

Vala made her way throughout the spaceport, dodging crowds with an aplomb that only came from long practice.  Jack could do nothing but follow her, cursing her for dragging him off to wherever the hell she was leading him.  He’d been perfectly fine on his own, and this woman had strolled right in and tagged him, and didn’t have the courtesy to even give him a clue as to what was going on. 

It hadn’t been that long ago that Jack would have gone with her willingly, in just the name of adventure.  He would have had Ianto at his side, of course; in fact, Ianto would have most likely encouraged him to follow.  There had been times when Jack had thought that the pair of them could have taken on the galaxy, and it had been that very hubris that had had them going into Thames House without so much as a back-up plan.

It had cost Ianto his life. 

He had to also blame Ianto a little in what happened, although it felt wrong to do so.  It had been Ianto’s faith in him that had sent them into Thames House, because Ianto had believed in him to stand up for what was right.  That confidence had buoyed Jack up, until Ianto’s death had caused it to all come crashing down like the house of cards it had always been. 

It was what made everything seem so much worse than it could ever have been.  Not only the loss of Ianto…but the loss of that confidence, which had made him such a better person than he could have ever hoped to be.  Jack could admit freely to himself that he’d loved Ianto; still did, and he knew it would be centuries before it would ever fade.   Not even Steven’s death would ever compare to what Jack felt toward Ianto’s loss, and guilt ate at him over it.  He could rationalize it all he wanted to, but it came down to the fact that Ianto had been more a part of his life than his own family had been, even though they’d only had a scant couple of years as lovers.

There were times when he actually hated Ianto for it all.

Vala seemed to be heading toward the outer areas of the spaceport, and Jack frowned, wondering if she wasn’t making for a docked spacecraft.  It would be offworld, then. 

He grabbed her by the arm to stop her.  “Just where are we going?” he demanded, going for intimidation.

Vala simply grinned up at him.  “It’s not working, darling.  C’mon, it’s not far.”  She shrugged out of his grip and moved on.

Jack had no choice but to go with her.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d claimed it wasn’t far.  Vala walked up to a large metal door, pushing it open to reveal a wide space free of the various crates and detritus that built up in a port’s storage areas.  She grasped the sleeve of his greatcoat, pulling him into the middle of the space.

Jack really shouldn’t have been surprised when the transport rings appeared.  After all, Vala had used a Goa’uld device to force him to accompany her, and there had to have been all sorts of abandoned Goa’uld technology floating around after the demise of the System Lords.  So, for someone to have gotten their hands on it only made sense.

Thus, being beamed into what was obviously the cargo hold of a tel’tak didn’t really shock him.

It was only the obvious fact that Vala wasn’t a Goa’uld that kept him from trying to overpower her and escape.  Jack didn’t relish becoming a Goa’uld host; him being immortal would have been the icing on the cake of a System Lord’s existence.  But no, the System Lords are gone and dust.  Jack didn’t need to worry about them coming after him, even if they’d been aware of an immortal Tauri out in the universe.

“Calm down,” Vala said, noticing his sudden tensing.  “This is a Free Jaffa ship.  Nothing’s going to jump out at you.”  With those parting words, she used the touchpad next to the room’s only door to open it and head out into the ship.

The ring room had been just off the ship’s main corridor, and Jack kept tagging along behind Vala, glad that he’d know soon enough just what was going on.  If this was a Free Jaffa ship, then it had to be one of the Jaffa’s allies who’d come in search of him.  It could be good news…or bad. 

The flight deck of the tel’tak was austere, with the only seat being at the helm position.  They were already in flight, judging from the stars streaking past.  There were two men on deck, one in the pilot chair, and they turned as Jack and Vala entered, and Jack recognized them at once.

Brigadier General Jack O’Neill (Retired) was a handsome and well-built man, his short hair all grey now, and his dark eyes discerning.  He was dressed in tan khakis and a black t-shirt, his well-muscled arms crossed over his chest.  At his waist was a military-issue automatic, as well as one of the ubiquitous zat’nik’tel, the electrical weapon that Jack knew had come to Earth through the SGC.

Jack respected the hell out of O’Neill, even if he’d often argued with the man.  O’Neill was career Air Force, and he’d worked his way up through the ranks until his retirement, when the U.S. policy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” had finally gotten on his last nerve and he’d decided he didn’t want to hide his relationship with a very male teammate any longer.

That teammate was Dr. Daniel Jackson, and Jack wasn’t at all surprised to see him sitting in the pilot’s chair.  If rumour was to be believed, Jackson had died and come back to life enough times that Jack had played with the idea that the anthropologist was also somehow immortal, but he’d dismissed it.  He also might have, at one time, considered trying to poach Jackson for Torchwood, but although Jack couldn’t die he could still feel pain, and he doubted that O’Neill would have appreciated it very much. 

 “So,” he drawled, bringing up a smirk for O’Neill, “what brings one-half of SG-1 out this far?”

Vala cleared her throat meaningfully, but the others seemed to ignore her, except for Jackson who simply rolled his eyes.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to track you down?” O’Neill answered, “I would have been quite happy to be fishing instead of being asked to find your sorry ass.”

“You didn’t need to,” Jack returned.  “I was quite happy where I was.”  That was pure exaggeration, since he hadn’t been truly happy in quite some time.

“He was in a bar,” Vala reported, “drinking himself into a stupor.”

It was O’Neill’s turn to roll his eyes, but there was something else in his expression that Jack didn’t want to interpret as sympathy.  “I never pictured you as a cut-and-run type, Harkness.”

“Then you don’t know me at all very well.”

“Maybe not.  But I do know what you’ve gone through.”  O’Neill stepped closer, resting a hand on Jack’s shoulder.  “I was told what you had to do to save the planet.”

“Then you know exactly why I cut-and-run, as you put it.”  Anger made the words come out rough.

‘Yeah,” O’Neill answered quietly.  “I was like that, when my son died.”

Jack was startled.  “Your son?”

“Charlie.  He was about Steven’s age when he died.  Oh, he didn’t go out heroically, like your grandson did…no, Charlie was playing with my service weapon when it went off.  I pretty much drank myself stupid, lost my wife…but it was Charlie’s death that led me to the SGC.  Of course, they brought me in thinking that first mission through the Stargate was going to be a suicide mission but, while I’ve learned to live on, I still miss him.  I wish I could say it would get better, but I won’t lie to you.  I am sorry for your loss, Harkness.”

Jack didn’t even know he was crying until he tasted salt on his lips.  Yes, O’Neill’s son hadn’t died the way Steven had, but he could see how the General could sympathize with what Jack was going through. 

He nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.  O’Neill looked at him closely, as if reading him to see if his words really had meant something, and then nodded himself, stepping back.  Jackson got up from the pilot’s chair and moved up to him, and Jack saw his hand go up to rub O’Neill’s back in comfort. 

“Well,” O’Neill said, “now that the mushy stuff is out of the way, I should probably explain exactly why we’re out in an… _appropriated_ …tel’tak, looking for you.”

“It must have been good to get you away from you cabin,” Jack agreed, clearing his throat slightly.

“Yeah, it was.  Imagine my surprise when Hank Landry called me, saying that he’d received a very interesting phone call from someone claiming to be Ianto Jones.”

If the emotions about Steven had been rough, Ianto’s name coming from O’Neill’s mouth was like a punch in the gut.  Jack staggered, reaching out for something to keep himself from falling to the deck.  There was nothing, and Jack went down as if he’d been pushed, his heart aching just as badly as it had when he’s revived in that gymnasium back on Earth.

Hands were on his shoulder once more, but this time it was Daniel Jackson’s, and he was having strong words with O’Neill, but Jack couldn’t make them out, he was so thoroughly stunned. 

Ianto was dead.  There was no way he could be calling anyone, let alone the head of the SGC. 

With that thought, anger replaced the shock that had flooded him.  He was back on his feet before he’d even realized it, and his hands were fisted in O’Neill’s shirt, shoving the man against the wall.  “Ianto is _dead_ ,” he snarled. 

Now Jackson was trying to pull him away, but O’Neill simply stood there, taking Jack’s anger and accepting it.  “Tell me about it,” the retired General said, “I saw the footage from Thames House.   But this guy had the proper Torchwood codes according to Landry, and he knew about the argument between you and Carter about the ZPM.  He had all the right answers.”

Jack examined O’Neill, looking for the lie…and not finding it.  He released his grip on the man, and shrugging off Jackson’s hands as he moved back, shaking his head in disbelief.  Ianto had been there for that ‘discussion’ with Samantha Carter, which had taken intervention from Major General Landry in order to settle things down.  No one else would have known.

It was impossible.                                            

“Carter’s probably still mad because I was right,” he answered weakly, not knowing why those particular words had come out when there were so many others he wanted to say. 

O’Neill snorted.  “She hasn’t lived it down yet, no.”

Jack took a deep breath, needing to calm down, but not able to.  It wasn’t possible that Ianto was alive; he’d died in Jacks’ arms, professing his love, and Jack hadn’t been able to say it back.   “How?” was the only thing that clawed its way from his throat.

And O’Neill explained.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

 

It was the fifteenth day after Ianto’s rescue that the shit hit the fan.

Up until that point things had been quiet.  The holiday cottage had been isolated enough that they didn’t receive any visitors, and the other, similar cabins had remained empty, it being out of season for most tourists.  The company Ianto had been keeping was pleasant; Martha had been a bit reticent toward Ges’ryth for a couple of days, but had warmed to the symbiote after she’d been reassured that Ianto wasn’t under any sort of duress and that he could retake control at any time. 

Mickey had been different.  He’d taken to Ges’ryth almost immediately, him and the Tok’ra bonding over a love for tech and some shared experiences…Mickey had also once been a part of a resistance, only he’d been up against the Cybermen and not the Goa’uld. 

Ianto had also decided that he liked Mickey.  He hadn’t met Martha’s previous fiancé, Tom, so he didn’t have any sort of preconceived notions.  Still, he couldn’t have imagined Martha being with anyone else.

Ges’ryth also liked them both, which was a bonus.

The longer he stayed blended with the Tok’ra, the more he just couldn’t imagine her not being with him.  He could tell that she felt the same way, and Ianto was glad of it.  He’d pretty much decided that, wherever the pair of them ended up, they would be staying together.

There were many advantages to staying blended.  Ges’ryth knew so much, and was willing to share all that with him, just as Ianto was willing to share his own knowledge with her.  She was also good company, and pleasant to talk with.  Ges’ryth also claimed that his calm nature helped keep her own bit of a temper in check, while that very hot-headedness leant Ianto a bit more passion in his actions that he hadn’t had before. 

It made Ianto wonder what Jack would think about his having a passenger inside his body.  The immortal would most likely think of it as having a threesome.

That was, if they found Jack.

He could have gone anywhere.  The chances of them finding him were very slim.  Even with Ges’ryth’s contacts within the Tok’ra Ianto didn’t hold out much hope. 

Still, one of the many advantages of remaining blended was that he’d have much more time to search.  Having the symbiote meant that Ianto’s own lifespan would be increased, barring catastrophic injury. 

 _“We will find your one,”_ Ges’ryth swore, one night when Ianto’s thoughts were too noisy to let him sleep. 

He believed her.

They’d also heard from General Landry a couple of times.  The American had let Ianto know that, while he’d be able to get people into Wales past the security that UNIT had put in place, it would have been next to impossible to get him out and to the States.  That left one more option to get Ianto offworld…and that came from space.  The general claimed to have made contact with people who could help, but that it would take a while to get them to Earth.  Ianto just had to have patience, and everything would be taken care of.

Mickey, using his computer skills, and managed to keep track of some of UNIT’s shenanigans.  Apparently there was a kill order out on Ianto…not under his name, of course, since Dexter couldn’t admit that Ianto Jones of Torchwood had somehow survived Thames House…despite the current bad reputation Torchwood had.  Too many people had seen the 456 footage, and had seen Ianto die a supposed hero.  There wasn’t any way that Dexter wanted to appear to be the bad guy.

So the order had gone out identifying Ianto as an “unknown terrorist” with an armed and dangerous warning attached, making it more than likely that whoever found him would shoot first and ask questions later.  Ges’ryth would be able to heal most injuries, but if someone took a head shot then both of them would be killed instantly.

Ianto wasn’t about to risk either of them like that.

Although, as good as Mickey was, getting into UNIT’s servers after his rescue should have told Ianto something. 

The night had been as quiet as every other one during their stay at Aberaeron.  Dinner had been burgers and chips, thanks to Mickey’s culinary skills – Martha had teased him, saying that was the only reason she’d married Mickey, to which Mickey gave her a pout worthy of Jack Harkness – and the TV in the cottage’s small lounge was on.  Ges’ryth had become enamoured of Earth’s entertainment programs, and it had taken Ianto a bit of time explaining to her that no, _Wife Swap_ wasn’t a documentary. 

Ianto had been dozing when Ges’ryth suddenly stopped her running mental commentary of the programme they’d watching.  That sudden lack of white noise had Ianto sitting up in the chair he’d claimed, asking her what was going on.

_“I believe I heard something.”_

Since she was using his ears at first Ianto wasn’t certain she wasn’t blowing something out of proportion, because he hadn’t heard anything.  But then, he’d been coasting toward sleep while letting her words soothe him, so it was very possible he’d missed it.

“What is it?” Martha asked.  She and Mickey were curled up on the sofa, and both of them were now watching him.  Ianto felt vaguely uneasy under their scrutiny.

“Ges’ryth says she heard something,” he answered, coming fully alert. 

Mickey was up off the sofa and heading into his and Martha’s bedroom.  Seconds later he was back, carrying the big, alien gun he’d brought with him.  He tossed Ianto a handgun, which he easily caught. 

He could certainly agree with his friend’s caution.  While they’d been extremely careful in the time they’d been hiding out, there was still that chance that UNIT could have somehow found them.  And, if Ges’ryth really _had_ heard something, then it was possible they’d been discovered.

Martha had the TV muted, her head cocked as if she was listening for something.  It had gone quiet outside the cottage; even the evening insects that had been going at it outside were silent, and that set off alarms in Ianto’s mind. 

Something had to have disturbed the bugs into silence.  That could mean one of two things: an animal was outside the house…or human beings were.

He tried to muffle the sound of him racking the slide of his weapon, but it was still loud in the unnatural quiet.  Mickey made a motion toward the kitchen, and Ianto nodded, understanding him instantly.  The back door had been locked when they’d left the kitchen after dinner, but it still needed to be checked.

Padding into the kitchen on socked feet, Ianto made his way toward the back door, gun held at the ready.  Ges’ryth’s presence in his head was practically vibrating, and the combination of her nerves and his own was sending Ianto into what felt like adrenaline overdrive. 

The overhead light was off, and only the clock on the microwave glowed in the darkness.  Ianto blinked to adjust his vision, which seemed a bit better than before; Ges’ryth pointed out almost absently that it was her being a part of him that was increasing the strength of his other senses.  It would explain how she’d heard a noise outside when Mickey or Martha hadn’t.

There was a crunch of gravel outside the back door, and Ianto froze where he was, standing next to the small kitchen table.  He extended his weapon toward the closed door, arms steady despite his heightened nerves, and he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

It seemed to work a little as time stretched out, Ianto waiting to see if anyone was going to attempt an entry into the cottage through the door he was covering, or was it going to come from somewhere else.  He trusted Mickey to take care of the front of the house; both he and Martha would have Ianto’s back, even though he’d learned that Martha wasn’t all that fond of deadly weapons.  She had other ways to defend herself.

The doorknob rattled slightly.  Someone was testing it to see if the door was secured.

Ianto shifted his right foot forward slightly, eyes focused on the back door.  His attention funnelled down to that one point, knowing they’d most likely try to break both doors down at the same time in order to create the most chaos.  They might also attempt to enter through one of the windows, and Ianto thought that was a distinct possibility.

He and Ges’ryth were both ready when the intruders slammed a heavy ram into the door, splintering the wood and leaving a large hole in the panel. 

Ianto was firing before the first man could enter the house.

He really didn’t want to kill anyone, but he wasn’t about to let them kill him and his friends, either.  Ianto aimed at legs and arms, knowing that the troops would be wearing body armour and possibly helmets of some kind, so head and body shots wouldn’t penetrate far enough to do anything.  While he was firing he flipped the table onto its side and took cover, even though the wood really wouldn’t be much protection but not willing to give anyone a free shot at him.

Bullets punched into the tabletop, and it was sheer luck that the first couple of rounds didn’t punch through the wood.  It was only a matter of time before they would, but there was no way he was going to give up easily.

Ianto could just make out the loud whine of the energy weapon Mickey had from out at the front of the house.  He was most likely holding his own, and Ianto turned his attention away from his friends in the other part of the cottage and concentrated on the soldiers coming in through the door.

Luckily for him, the door was narrow and the UNIT troops were bottlenecking, allowing Ianto to take them out one at a time.  Still, shots were getting through, and he had to keep ducking behind the table to keep from getting shot.

Still, he was only able to take disabling shots.  None of his assailants were going to stay down for long, and when they managed to regroup Ianto and Ges’ryth were going to be in serious trouble.

Wood chips were being blown off the table, and one of them struck Ianto across the cheek in a bizarre parody of the wound he’d received when the Hub had blown up.  Distantly he could already feel the skin knitting back together, thanks to Ges’ryth’s healing ability.  He was going to be out of bullets soon, and then he’d be overwhelmed.

 _“I do not wish to be taken by them again,”_ Ges’ryth snarled.

Ianto was of the same mind, but honestly he didn’t think UNIT was out to bring them back into custody.  Their usefulness was at an end with them, and there had already been a termination order out on them as it was.  He really didn’t think either of them were going to survive this.

A part of Ianto was strangely relieved by the idea.  He’d been meant to die at Thames House, and had somehow survived long enough to be forcibly blended with Ges’ryth, who also should have died with her previous host.  The two of them still living seemed as if they’d been tempting fate all this time, and maybe it was time to just let go.

Jack would never know that Ianto had come back.  His ex-lover would still be out there, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of Ianto dying once more, when it was his time.  It might have been better that way.

The only thing that kept Ianto from accepting their deaths was that Mickey and Martha would also be killed.  UNIT couldn’t allow them to live, now that they knew about Ianto and Ges’ryth.  They would die there as well, their only crime being that they’d cared enough to try to save a friend who should have been dead anyway.

There had to be something they could do to stop UNIT…

A sudden, very bright light illuminated the kitchen, causing Ianto to wince away in pain as his eyes tried to adjust.

The gunfire ceased as the soldiers were just as stunned as Ianto; they’d all been wearing night goggles, which meant the flash of light was even worse for them.  Peeking over the lip of the heavily damaged table Ianto watched as the soldiers began ripping off their headgear in an attempt to be able to see properly.

“PUT DOWN THE WEAPONS!” A loud voice boomed outside.  “IF YOU DON’T DROP THEM NOW I WON’T HESITATE TO BLOW YOUR ASSES AWAY.”

Ianto didn’t recognise the voice, but it was somewhat distorted by whatever communications system it was using.  It was a man, that much he could tell, and obviously American. 

 _“This must be the ones General Landry claimed would be coming,”_ Ges’ryth said, sounding relieved.

Ianto had to agree with her. He was equally relieved, his knees feeling like jelly now that he wasn’t under constant fire.  He wasn’t sure he could even rise from the crouch he’d been in behind the table, to be honest.

He could hear someone outside the cottage, but Ianto couldn’t make out what they were saying.  It must not have been what their rescuers wanted to hear, because there was a loud whining sound and then an explosion that made Ianto flinch in response.

_“I like these people and I have yet to meet them.”_

That comment made Ianto laugh.  Anyone that was coming to save them was going to be alright in his book. 

“I TOLD YOU I WAS GONNA BLOW YOURS ASSES AWAY IF YOU DIDN’T PUT THE GUNS DOWN,” the voice went on.  “I REALLY ENJOYED THAT, JUST SO YOU KNOW.”

“YOU JUST LOVE BLOWING SHIT UP,” a second voice chimed in, sounded exasperated.

“SHUT UP DANIEL, I’M TRYING TO BE INTIMIDATING HERE.”

“AND YOU’RE DOING A WONDERFUL JOB DEAR.”

Ianto couldn’t help the belly laugh that had him sitting down hard on the floor.  Every bit of stress he’d been through in the last months was suddenly overwhelming him, and the laugh turned somewhat hysterical as he listened to the two voices bantering back and forth over the intercom or whatever they were using to threaten the UNIT troops.  They sounded like an old married couple.

_“What is this ‘old married couple’…oh, I see.  Yes, this is indeed what they sound like.  And you should be breathing, Ianto.  I understand that your form of biological life requires oxygen to function.”_

Ianto took a deep, whooping breath, trying to calm down the hysterics.  Ges’ryth was right, but it was really hard to get enough air when you were too busy laughing your arse off.

“Ianto!”

Martha was suddenly beside him, kneeling on the floor and putting a hand on his shoulder.  He reached up and grasped it, squeezing it to acknowledge her.

“Looks like we won, mate,” Mickey added. 

Ianto glanced up toward the sound of his voice.  Mickey was standing there, his gun cradled in his arms like a little child, and there was such a smirk on his face it almost set Ianto off laughing again. 

Mickey shifted his gun and held out a hand, which Ianto gratefully accepted.  The other man hauled the Welshman to his feet, and Ianto wobbled a bit before steadying.

The UNIT troops were gone.  The kitchen was wrecked, bullet holes peppering the walls, ceiling, and floor.  Blood had splattered the broken door frame from the soldiers Ianto had hit, the men themselves having been either dragged or helped out of the house.  “Do we know who just saved us?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Mickey answered, “but whoever they are, I’m gonna kiss ‘em when we meet.”

“I’m not the jealous type,” Martha snarked, “but one of them might be, and I just broke you in the way I want you.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be getting your deposit back on this place,” Ianto replied, the tidy part of his soul weeping at the destruction.

“Not so sure that’s important at the moment,” Mickey returned.  “Why don’t we go out and see just who we need to thank?”

 _“Mickey shows good sense,”_ Ges’ryth put her two pence in.

She asked him what pence was, and Ianto showed her as they all headed out of the destroyed back door.  In the bright light Ianto could see that the troops had all gathered by a pair of transports that had managed to sneak up on the cottage; that must have been what Ges’ryth had heard while Ianto had been dozing.  They were getting looks from the soldiers that would have dropped them dead if looks could really kill, and Ianto snorted as Mickey flipped them the bird in response.

There was a spaceship parked on the lawn.

From Ges’ryth Ianto understood that this was a tel’tak, like the ship that had Ges’ryth and her last host had been using when they’d been taken by the Rift.  It was a squat thing, vaguely triangular, bronze coloured and back swept, crushing the grass that it had landed upon.  There was a hatch on the side, which was opening as they watched, and a trio of men stepped out.

Ianto instantly recognised Brigadier General Jack O’Neill.  He had only spoken to O’Neill over the phone, but he’d seen the man’s file and the picture that had been attached.  He was a handsome older man, wearing a tight t-shirt and khakis, and obviously armed. 

The second man was Dr Daniel Jackson.  Once again, Ianto had never met him in person, but he knew that, where Brigadier General O’Neill was, Dr Jackson wasn’t far behind.  Besides, the voice – now that he thought about it had been O’Neill – had mentioned ‘Daniel’ during his announcement, so it simply made the most sense.

The third man…

All the breath left Ianto’s body.  He felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. 

“It’s Jack,” Martha spoke for him, for which Ianto was grateful because he wouldn’t have been able to say a thing past the hard lump in his throat.

“Trust Captain Cheesecake to make an entrance,” Mickey said sarcastically, although it was obvious he was very glad to see Jack standing there.

Jack was staring at him.  Ianto could feel his ex-lover’s eyes on him, examining him, scrutinising everything about him.  Ianto was suddenly aware of the weight he’d lost, or his longer-than-usual hair, and how tired he must have looked.  He felt himself fidget under that heavy gaze, doubting that Jack would want him anymore.

 _“You are an idiot, Ianto Jones,”_ Ges’ryth chided.

Maybe he was. 

And then, Jack was in front of him.  He hadn’t changed except for the shadows under his eyes, making their blue seem even darker.  They glittered, and Ianto was shocked to see tears in them.  “You really are alive,” Jack whispered. A hand rose, but stopped just short of touching his face.

Ianto couldn’t say anything to that, so he simply nodded.  Any of his usual snarky comments simply wouldn’t come to mind as he stood there, looking at the man he hadn’t been certain he would ever see again.

Jack surged forward, his lips crushed against Ianto’s, and he lost himself in the familiar feel and taste of his ex-lover…no, no longer ex.  They were together again.  Ianto wrapped his arms tight around Jack, and the embrace was returned.

 _“Well, this is certainly pleasurable,”_ Ges’ryth interrupted.  _“I can understand why you would miss this.”_

Ianto couldn’t help the laughter, but it emerged as a sort of choked-off sob as he broke the kiss.  Jack looked surprised at Ianto’s reaction, and he shook his head to let Jack know it wasn’t anything he did.

The look of understanding on Jack’s face clued Ianto in that he knew exactly what had caused the sudden burst of hilarity.  “The symbiote?”

“She’s being ridiculous,” Ianto admitted, glad that he seemed to accepting of Ges’ryth.

_“I am not!”_

“Not that all this is sweet,” O’Neill sarcastic drawl broke into their reunion, “but we should really be going before UNIT sends more of their bully boys.  Not that I wouldn’t mind kicking their butts too…”

“What about Martha and Mickey?” Ianto was worried that UNIT might bring retribution against them for breaking him out.

“I’m sure General Landry can find something for them to do,” Jackson offered, joining them.  “If they’re interested, of course.”

“Working with the Stargate?”  Mickey considered, his head cocked to one side.  He glanced over at Martha, and there was a silent conversation between them. 

“We understand the pair of you travelled with the Doctor,” O’Neill added.  “That sort of experience is hard to come by.”

Martha rolled her eyes then headed toward the tel’tak’s open hatch.  “Bring your gun, Mr Smith,” she called over her shoulder.  “We have a universe to make safe for the good guys.”

Mickey grinned.  “God, I love that woman.”  He hoisted his gun onto his shoulder and followed. 

“Ianto.”  Jack held out his hand, his face expectant. 

“Well, I don’t know…” Ianto teased.

 _“You are insufferable,”_ Ges’ryth laughed, her good humour twisting through his brain like sunlight.  _“I knew there was a reason we got along so well.”_

Ianto accepted Jack’s hand, and together they headed toward the spaceship, following O’Neill and Jackson.  “I hope you don’t mind if I keep Ges’ryth around.”

“Mind?” Jack echoed.  “Are you kidding?  This is going to be like having a threesome!”

“Why did I think you were going to say that?” Ianto sighed.

Jack stopped just outside the hatch.  He took Ianto by the shoulders, gazing into his eyes.  “Because you know me, Ianto Jones.  And you love me.”

The soft smile was there and Ianto couldn’t stop it from appearing even if he wanted to try.  “I do, Jack.”

“I love you, too.  I’m only sorry I didn’t say it before.”

It was all that Ianto had wanted to hear, even if Jack was just a bit late in admitting it.  “Then let’s get the hell off this world.”

Jack laughed, a free sound that sent Ianto’s heart fluttering.  “You got it.”  He motioned the Welshman into the ship.  “And I’m really looking forward to meeting this Ges’ryth.  I need to thank her for saving your life.”

“I’m not so sure I want that to happen, the pair of you are going to cause nothing but trouble.”

“Hey!”

_“Hey!”_

Ianto smirked.  He was really looking forward to spending the rest of his life with these two.  He had the feeling it was never going to be boring.

 

_Fin_

 

 


End file.
